Ruoxi glanced across the table at Dulce, the lower half of his face obscured behind a glass goblet. Ever since they arrived at Dewmire, he had done his best to keep his distance.
Dulce's invitation to him to go fruit-picking the next day was pleasing. His patience had been wearing thin, but now it was a bit easier to remind himself that keeping his distance and exercising restraint were the best ways to let Dulce take the initiative.
It was about time for dinner, and they had gone through several bottles of wine. Well, it was more apt to say he had drunk most of the wine, Dulce mildly nursing a few goblets. It was no surprise, he knew that the Vampire didn't care for grape wine.
Ruoxi's slightly dilated irises lowered to Dulce's slender fingers on the neck of the bottle; the Vampire was pouring him his umpteenth goblet of wine, and despite the potency of Earth's wine being considerably less, his movements had become languid.
